Impossible for us to conjecture the causes or circumstances

which may have alienated them, without actual blame on either

side."

"Very true, indeed; and now, my dear Jane, what have you got

to say on behalf of the interested people who have probably been

concerned in the business? Do clear _them_ too, or we shall be

obliged to think ill of somebody."

"Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of

my opinion. My dearest Lizzy, do but consider in what a

disgraceful light it places Mr. Darcy, to be treating his father's

favourite in such a manner, one whom his father had promised to

provide for. It is impossible. No man of common humanity, no

man who had any value for his character, could be capable of it.

Can his most intimate friends be so excessively deceived in him?

Oh! no."

"I can much more easily believe Mr. Bingley's being imposed on,

than that Mr. Wickham should invent such a history of himself

as he gave me last night; names, facts, everything mentioned

without ceremony. If it be not so, let Mr. Darcy contradict it.

Besides, there was truth in his looks."

"It is difficult indeed--it is distressing. One does not know what

to think."

"I beg your pardon; one knows exactly what to think."

But Jane could think with certainty on only one point--that Mr.

Bingley, if he _had_ been imposed on, would have much to suffer

when the affair became public.

The two young ladies were summoned from the shrubbery,

where this conversation passed, by the arrival of the very

persons of whom they had been speaking; Mr. Bingley and his

sisters came to give their personal invitation for the

long-expected ball at Netherfield, which was fixed for the

following Tuesday. The two ladies were delighted to see their

dear friend again, called it an age since they had met, and

repeatedly asked what she had been doing with herself since

their separation. To the rest of the family they paid little

attention; avoiding Mrs. Bennet as much as possible, saying not

much to Elizabeth, and nothing at all to the others. They were

soon gone again, rising from their seats with an activity which

took their brother by surprise, and hurrying off as if eager to

escape from Mrs. Bennet's civilities.

The prospect of the Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable to

every female of the family. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as

given in compliment to her eldest daughter, and was particularly

flattered by receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley himself,

Instead of a ceremonious card. Jane pictured to herself a happy

evening in the society of her two friends, and the attentions of

her brother; and Elizabeth thought with pleasure of dancing a

great deal with Mr. Wickham, and of seeing a confirmation of

everything in Mr. Darcy's look and behavior. The happiness

anticipated by Catherine and Lydia depended less on any single

event, or any particular person, for though they each, like

Elizabeth, meant to dance half the evening with Mr. Wickham,

he was by no means the only partner who could satisfy them, and

a ball was, at any rate, a ball. And even Mary could assure her

family that she had no disinclination for it.

"While I can have my mornings to myself," said she, "it is

enough--I think it is no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening

engagements. Society has claims on us all; and I profess myself

one of those who consider intervals of recreation and amusement

as desirable for everybody."

Elizabeth's spirits were so high on this occasion, that though she

did not often speak unnecessarily to Mr. Collins, she could not

help asking him whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley's

invitation, and if he did, whether he would think it proper to join

in the evening's amusement; and she was rather surprised to find

that he entertained no scruple whatever on that head, and was

very far from dreading a rebuke either from the Archbishop, or

Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by venturing to dance.

"I am by no means of the opinion, I assure you," said he, "that

a ball of this kind, given by a young man of character, to

respectable people, can have any evil tendency; and I am so

far from objecting to dancing myself, that I shall hope to be

honoured with the hands of all my fair cousins in the course of

the evening; and I take this opportunity of soliciting yours, Miss

Elizabeth, for the two first dances especially, a preference which

I trust my cousin Jane will attribute to the right cause, and not

to any disrespect for her."

Elizabeth felt herself completely taken in. She had fully

proposed being engaged by Mr. Wickham for those very dances;

and to have Mr. Collins instead! her liveliness had never been

worse timed. There was no help for it, however. Mr. Wickham's

happiness and her own were perforce delayed a little longer,

and Mr. Collins's proposal accepted with as good a grace as she

could. She was not the better pleased with his gallantry from

the idea it suggested of something more. It now first struck

her, that _she_ was selected from among her sisters as worthy of

being mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form

a quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible

visitors. The idea soon reached to conviction, as she observed

his increasing civilities toward herself, and heard his

frequent attempt at a compliment on her wit and vivacity; and

though more astonished than gratified herself by this effect

of her charms, it was not long before her mother gave her to

understand that the probability of their marriage was extremely

agreeable to _her_. Elizabeth, however, did not choose to take

the hint, being well aware that a serious dispute must be the

consequence of any reply. Mr. Collins might never make the

offer, and till he did, it was useless to quarrel about him.

If there had not been a Netherfield ball to prepare for and talk

of, the younger Miss Bennets would have been in a very pitiable

state at this time, for from the day of the invitation, to the day

of the ball, there was such a succession of rain as prevented their

walking to Meryton once. No aunt, no officers, no news could

be sought after--the very shoe-roses for Netherfield were got

by proxy. Even Elizabeth might have found some trial of her

patience in weather which totally suspended the improvement of

her acquaintance with Mr. Wickham; and nothing less than a

dance on Tuesday, could have made such a Friday, Saturday,

Sunday, and Monday endurable to Kitty and Lydia.

Chapter 18

Till Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield, and

looked in vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats

there assembled, a doubt of his being present had never occurred

to her. The certainty of meeting him had not been checked by

any of those recollections that might not unreasonably have

alarmed her. She had dressed with more than usual care, and

prepared in the highest spirits for the conquest of all that

remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it was not more

than might be won in the course of the evening. But in an

instant arose the dreadful suspicion of his being purposely

omitted for Mr. Darcy's pleasure in the Bingleys' invitation

to the officers; and though this was not exactly the case, the

absolute fact of his absence was pronounced by his friend Denny,

to whom Lydia eagerly applied, and who told them that Wickham

had been obliged to go to town on business the day before, and

was not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile, "I do not

imagine his business would have called him away just now, if he

had not wanted to avoid a certain gentleman here."

This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was

caught by Elizabeth, and, as it assured her that Darcy was not

less answerable for Wickham's absence than if her first surmise

had been just, every feeling of displeasure against the former

was so sharpened by immediate disappointment, that she could

hardly reply with tolerable civility to the polite inquiries

which he directly afterwards approached to make. Attendance,

forbearance, patience with Darcy, was injury to Wickham. She

was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and

turned away with a degree of ill-humour which she could not

wholly surmount even in speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind

partiality provoked her.

But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour; and though every

prospect of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not

dwell long on her spirits; and having told all her griefs to

Charlotte Lucas, whom she had not seen for a week, she was

soon able to make a voluntary transition to the oddities of her

cousin, and to point him out to her particular notice. The first

two dances, however, brought a return of distress; they were

dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn,

apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong

without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery

which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give.

The moment of her release from him was ecstasy.

She danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment of

talking of Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked.

When those dances were over, she returned to Charlotte Lucas,

and was in conversation with her, when she found herself

suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy who took her so much by surprise